so many foreign worlds (so relatively fucked)
by clarkegriffindor
Summary: the tour guide Bellamy/tourist Clarke AU that was completely uncalled for


A/N: Hello everyone! I relied on Google a lot for this one, even though I have been to Rome-it's been about 10 years since I was last there! Title comes from Creature Fear by Bon Iver. Enjoy!

* * *

Staring at the paper in her hand, Clarke furrows her brow, then averts her gaze to the street. Just as her map indicates, the world-famous Colosseum faces her at the other end of the square, its imposing stone structure jutting up into the sky. Of course, the artist in her has to take a minute to admire its stately arches in that Greco-Roman style she loves, but she quickly shakes herself out of her art-induced stupor and scans the throngs of people fervently. Her tour leaves in just a few minutes, and despite her instructions to meet her guide in front of the Colosseum, said tour guide is nowhere to be seen.

Her gaze falls on a small group of definite tourists- _people still wear fanny packs?_ -all clustered around a guy holding a sign that reads "TourRome: Historic Walking Tours." Bingo. With just a minute to spare, Clarke makes her way over to her tour group and when she finally reaches them, she's panting a bit. She'd left the hostel on time, but despite her considerable navigation skills, she'd gotten a bit lost-it _is_ her first time in Rome, after all.

"How nice of you to join us!" a low voice says sarcastically, and some of the tourists laugh. Clarke looks up to see the guy holding the sign smirking at her as he reaches into his backpack. He's tall and muscular, sporting a pair of Ray-Bans, with dark hair that slightly curls over his forehead and freckles smattered across his cheeks- _fuck he's hot_ -and Clarke thinks he can't be more than a few years older than she is. Pulling out a clipboard, he states, "You must be Clarke Griffin," and scrawls something on the paper.

Clarke sighs. "I'm last, aren't I?"

"That you are," he says teasingly, pointing his clipboard at her before turning to the group. "Alright, everyone, can you all hear me? I'm Bellamy, and I'll be your tour guide."

Clarke rolls her eyes, then shifts her gaze to her tour group as Bellamy gives his company-mandated opening speech. There's a family of four, consisting of two exuberant parents accompanied by a little boy who looks extremely distracted and a teenage girl scowling apathetically. A little to their left, there's an older couple-probably sixty-something globe-trotters in excellent shape-and a middle-aged gay couple holding hands. The tour group is pretty small, and including the hot tour guide, there's only ten of them. Unfortunately, Clarke also recognizes that no one in the group is her age, save for Bellamy, but she decides he's kind of annoying, so she's left genuinely hoping she doesn't have to spend the whole tour talking to the elderly couple.

As they enter the Colosseum, Clarke's eyes widen; she's seen this place in pictures so many times, but this is the first time she's ever experienced it, and it's incredible. Bellamy's started talking, but she's tuning him out, instead picturing gladiator-style battles occurring on the amphitheater floor. She knows the basics-it's also known as the Flavian amphitheater because it was built during the Flavian dynasty, it was used for gladiator battles and other forms of entertainment, and so on. She doesn't need Bellamy to tell her that.

"...and today, it remains one of the greatest symbols of Ancient Rome. Any questions?" Bellamy asks, seemingly finished with his monologue.

Clarke takes this as her cue to step forward to the balcony, where she snaps a picture of the Colosseum interior and gets a closer look at the network of walls on the floor below. She hears the elderly couple ask Bellamy, "Is it true that they had people have sex with _animals_ here? Because that's what we heard." Averting her eyes, she watches as Bellamy's face blanches and disposition sours slightly. Clarke covers her mouth to stifle her laughter.

A few moments later, after Bellamy's answered their question-they actually did have sex with animals, surprisingly-he sidles over to Clarke, who's still snickering. "What's so funny, _Principessa_?" he asks defensively.

"I know that was Italian, but I'm not sure what for," she retorts. "I only know basic phrases and curse words. Like the word for asshole, which you are."

He groans audibly, dismissing her insult. "Just try listening at the next stop on the tour. Maybe you'll learn something."

"Maybe I will, but I won't listen cause I want to," Clarke says, eyebrows raised. "I'll only listen cause I paid thirty euro for this tour, and I'm a broke as fuck college student."

Bellamy actually laughs and despite her hostility toward him, Clarke cracks a smile, too.

* * *

Clarke's standing outside the Pantheon, eyes wide at its grandeur. The Greco-Roman columns, stately and strong, bolster the phrase engraved in Latin that's juxtaposed against the granite, and the rotunda juts into the sky behind it. _Simply stunning_ , the architecture savant within her says.

Before Clarke knows it, Bellamy's leading them into the Pantheon and begins rattling off fact after fact about the place. Clarke's listening, not because the extent of his knowledge is impressive and definitely not because the childish glint in his eyes is adorable, she reminds herself-it's because she paid thirty euro for this tour, and she wants her money's worth.

Clarke's eyes pan the room, and she's astounded by the beauty of the sculptures situated along the walls. Statues, their skin made of smooth granite, stand with heads held high in eight ornate recesses lining the room. She aches to sketch everything, from the gentle slopes of their noses to their billowing togas, from the oculus in the ceiling to the frescoes on the walls.

When Clarke's gaze returns to the group, she sees that the earlier-apathetic teenage girl is listening to Bellamy with a dreamy look in her eyes. Of course he knows he's ridiculously attractive, Clarke notes, and obnoxiously enough, with his stupid smirk and freckles and those well-muscled arms, he also clearly knows how to flaunt it. He's got the teenager captivated, and, well, maybe he's _kind_ of got Clarke, too-she'd have to be either blind or a liar otherwise.

After he's given his rather impressive history of the Pantheon, complete with some rather nerdy history jokes at which Clarke tries not to laugh, Bellamy allows the tourists to walk around the room and take pictures for a few minutes. Clarke accordingly starts her tour of the dome, beginning with Raphael's tomb.

"Enjoying the tour so far?" a deep voice asks, and Clarke turns her head to see Bellamy sidling up next to her, studying the statue intently with a smirk on his face.

"The jokes were _horrible_ ," she says matter-of-factly, failing to mention her attempts to keep from snorting.

He chuckles. "But I know you secretly loved them," he replies, his lips quirking up at the corners. "Plus, the history of this city is pretty amazing, you have to admit."

Clarke doesn't deny that; instead, she turns to face him head-on, arms crossed over her chest. Despite her tiny stature, she commands quite a presence. "So, Bellamy, how'd you end up as a tour guide in Rome making bad jokes for a living?" she asks, a quizzical expression on her face. Ideally, she would follow up her question by asking how he knows so much about history, but she really doesn't want to feed his ego-she also doesn't want to admit that she's impressed.

"I studied abroad here for a semester during undergrad," he says, his eyes glinting with passion. "I loved it so much that I'm getting my master's here. Ancient History."

"And you're an annoying tour guide in your spare time?"

Bellamy smirks at her and her stomach flips. " _Annoying_? Come on, Clarke, I thought we were just starting to get along!"

She doesn't respond, but this time, when Clarke rolls her eyes at him, she can't help the slight smile that creeps its way onto her lips. She turns back to the tomb, studies it one last time before continuing her rounds, and Bellamy retreats to the center of the room, where he stands gazing in awe at the ceiling. Clarke sees him standing there totally transfixed, and she's kind of intrigued by the wonder in his eyes-somehow, despite the fact that he's probably in the Pantheon every day, he's still in awe of it. Clarke's eyes soften. Then, he's forced to tear his gaze from the oculus when the overenthusiastic mom approaches him and begins grilling him with questions; Clarke turns back to the frescoes, genuinely hoping Bellamy hadn't caught her staring.

When she's in front of another tomb, Umberto I's, she hears him approaching her again. "Hey, Clarke, you know how I said they used to have statues of the Roman gods in here?" he asks, a shit-eating grin on his face, and she nods, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Well, which god do you think I resemble most?"

Clarke looks him right in the eyes, and there are no sunglasses to hide his amusement. "You are so full of shit." Stifling a smile, she turns back to the room, eyes panning over the statues. "What makes you think you resemble a god?" she asks dryly, quirking an eyebrow at him.

He laughs, and it's a low, smooth sound that reverberates deep in his chest-fuck. "Maybe it's my Adonis-like good looks," he jokes.

"Well, if I have to choose, I know he's Greek, but I'd say you're pretty close to Narcissus," she replies, eyebrows raised and lips pursed.

"That's harsh," he says, placing a hand over his heart and feigning hurt. "And Narcissus wasn't even a god!"

"News flash: neither are you!" Clarke spits back, eyes wide with intensity, before her act crumbles and a laugh bubbles over.

Bellamy throws his head back laughing, too, and before regrouping for the next stop on the tour, they spend their last minutes in the Pantheon arguing over which goddess Clarke resembles. Clarke insists she's Minerva (" _Because I'm awesome and smart, Bellamy!_ ") and Bellamy just chuckles lightly and grins at her-he doesn't deny it.

* * *

After a few more monuments, their tour ends outside at a restaurant, where everyone of age is treated to wine. The late afternoon sun has sunk low in the sky and everyone's legs ache from walking, so the wine is a welcome break from sightseeing-Clarke's feet ache in agreement. She's merely a few sips in, but her ears already feel hot, and by the end of the second glass, she's laughing a little bit louder as she recounts her vacation plans for Bellamy, who's removed his sunglasses and listens intently. She plans to leave Rome the next day and head to Florence, where she'll take some time to study all the art, then she's up to Milan and Venice for the end of her trip.

She's so engrossed in their conversation-she's also had a little too much wine-that she doesn't check her watch, and before Clarke knows it, two hours have passed and all the other tourists from the group are long gone, leaving her and Bellamy alone. Bellamy notices this at the same time she does, but she makes no motion to leave; instead, she asks boldly, "Would you be interested in showing me around a bit more?"

Bellamy's eyes soften as he reaches for his backpack sitting on the back of his chair, grinning. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Try your hardest not to be a total nerd," Clarke laughs, rising from her chair. "I know how hard it must be for you."

Rolling his eyes and smiling, Bellamy pays the bill and starts for the square ahead of them. "Come on, Clarke, we're going to the Trevi Fountain."

They walk side by side all the way there, tour guide Bellamy never skimping on the facts and history of his city, and Clarke asking questions. By now, she can't really mask her admiration of his extensive knowledge with thinly veiled disgust. In fact, she actually thinks it's pretty _hot_.

After ten minutes of walking, they finally reach the tourist-packed square and the legendary fountain. "There's a legend concerning the Trevi Fountain, did you know that?" he asks her as they draw closer to it, eyes glinting. "Legend has it that if you throw a coin in the fountain, you'll return to Rome."

Clarke looks up at him. He's not smirking at her; instead, he's flashing an earnest grin, eyes soft and gleaming. She can't put her finger on how she's gone from thinking her tour guide is annoying to actually becoming his friend in just a few hours, and maybe it's the wine, but she can't stop her gaze from sliding to his mouth.

"I actually did hear that one," she says, looking him in the eye. "But I've also heard another..."

He raises his eyebrows. "And what might that be?"

Grabbing him by the wrist, Clarke shepherds him through the horde of tourists until they hit the fountain's edge. "Oh, I just heard that if you throw a second coin in the fountain," she replies, smirking, as she produces a coin from her pocket, "you find romance."

Turning her back to the fountain, she tosses the coin over her shoulder, and as it plunges into the water, she rises to her tiptoes, grabs Bellamy by the front of his shirt, and kisses him. He's taken aback for a moment, but he adjusts quickly, winding his strong hands behind Clarke's back and hoisting her up to meet him. He tastes like red wine-he's positively intoxicating.

When they finally break apart, they both laugh softly. "You're a pretty sucky tour guide if you didn't know that one," Clarke teases, grinning and rosy-cheeked.

"Oh, _shut up_ ," Bellamy says, pulling her back in for another kiss.

Later, she decides Florence can wait.


End file.
